


waking up inside a dream

by soetry



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Erik Has Feelings, Hurt Charles Xavier, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Running, and he's so confused about them, but charles is there to help :), erik has so many feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26298079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soetry/pseuds/soetry
Summary: A tear ran down Charles's cheek, and then he choked out, tone desperate, “I can make you forget this. Nothing has to change.”Erik stood and left the room.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 157





	waking up inside a dream

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! this is the first charles/erik fic i've finished, and i really hope you all like it! <3 
> 
> title's from FINNEAS's [angel](https://youtu.be/rEJtaPBITZw), which i definitely recommend giving a listen! this is also unbeta'd because it's all or nothing right

It was one of the quieter mornings in the house when Erik changed his usual routine and went to the kitchen rather than his rooms after his morning run.

Erik woke up at dawn every morning and chased the darkness away as he made his rounds around the house. No one else was usually up at that time, at least not in any jeans or belted pants, because there was rarely a time that Erik stretched his ability and felt any movement in the house. 

He took comfort in the serenity that morning provided, and, more often than not, would stare at the satellite from the balcony. He now could easily move the structure, especially after the beach in Cuba, when he realized his full potential as he disabled all of those missiles. 

When _they_ realized. When both he and Charles realized that their work was not for naught.

After his run, he would get the paper before entering the house to feel Hank sipping from one of the metal-bottomed coffee cups that Charles had made when they settled here, specifically to not have to get up when he usually had Erik nearby. Hank would set it down on his worktable, the metals settling against each other, and he would pick up his pen and read his notes in his aluminum clipboard.

Sean and Alex would be sleeping in as always, but tiny Scott in the bed across from Alex, would be awake and fidgeting with his glasses as he read. Tiny Ororo and Jean would be asleep in their own beds, though sometimes Erik could feel Ororo playing with the tin figurines they had made together when she first came.

Raven was in the gym, alternating between working out and eating since her fast metabolism had her eating five meals a day. Sometimes Erik would feel her ink fountain pen move fluidly, and he'd drop by after his own breakfast to ask her what she's been writing.

When Moira or Logan are here, they generally sleep in because this is basically a vacation home for them, but Erik always felt just a little bit more content when he sensed Moira's silver necklace or Logan's heavy adamantium skeleton settled.

And Charles. Charles was always awake at that time, always in the kitchen, his wheelchair making its way around the kitchen. The only food he could make were breakfast meals, and he insisted on making breakfast for everyone ( _"It's meant to be for the_ children _," Charles would argue while serving Raven._ ) every morning. He would have the meals cooking away on the stove while sipping tea, his watch nearing the metal-bottomed cup, and his reading glasses low on his nose as he presumably read one of his beloved books. 

Erik would walk by the kitchen, and pause. He always felt the familiar, gentle breeze of another being in the back of his mind before he continued walking. He always felt the wheelchair maneuver itself until it was right next to the door. There, they stood. Erik closed his eyes, most times, and let his comfort find its residence in Charles. He didn't know what Charles did, but he sat there just across the border, as still as Erik.

Then Erik would take a shower, get dressed, and read the paper until he heard tiny feet thudding down the corridor toward the kitchen, followed by louder ones. He would allow himself to smile before he folded the paper and followed the steps.

"Morning!" Jean insisted on yelling at him every morning before hugging his thighs. In front of him, Charles would be serving plates, Hank would be getting refills on coffee, Alex would be sleepily talking to the little ones, Scott would be sitting patiently, and Sean would already be eating. Raven, Ororo, and Jean were wild-cards, with the former usually somewhere else, and the latter two generally trying to get the other into trouble. Moira would come in sleepily after, and Logan would come in last second to eat all of the leftovers and then provoke the little ones into 1) blasting him out of his chair, 2) producing a rain cloud over his head, or 3) making him dance involuntarily. (And he got all three the time he angered them by purposefully spilling the orange juice on Charles's plate — along with two forks lodged in his arm, which made _Erik_ the one who ended up getting yelled at because apparently whoever draws blood is the 'bad guy'.)

Charles always gave Erik his plate of toast with some eggs, and then would wheel over next to him at the round table with a content smile. He then would ask, "How was your run?” And Erik would say, “It was good. Could you pass me the butter?”

But today, Erik didn't go to his rooms after his run. Today, he went to the kitchen.

He woke up this morning, an hour earlier than usual from a thirty-minute rest, agitated. He hadn't gotten any sleep. His mind kept running over the events of the night prior — of how his day, which started so normally and peacefully, was derailed so suddenly when the first hours of night overwhelmed them.

_Charles's blue eyes were caught on his. They were so blue, and so wet, and they were glistening, and Erik had no idea what to do._

_There was silence._

_Erik didn't know what to do. Charles can't — Honestly, Charles can't expect Erik to know what to do. There was never even a_ clue _that Charles was... That way. Or that Charles felt that way towards Erik._ Erik _. The mess of a mutant that he was. And — No. Erik couldn't accept this. Couldn't accept that Charles was..._

_Charles gave a shaky exhale. “You don't have to,” he whispered._

_Erik stiffened. Charles's trembling increased; after the beach, Erik never reacted to Charles reading his mind anymore, always easily moving to a mental or verbal conversation, but he couldn't help it in this situation. Erik, staring at Charles, his mind warring between emotions that were so strong and fleeting that he couldn't hold onto any of them, couldn't help but twistedly wishing that this never happened, only to avoid this feeling that his world was being torn apart in a slower way than it ever had before._

_A tear ran down Charles's cheek, and then he choked out, tone desperate, “I can make you forget this. Nothing has to change.”_

_At that, Erik stood and left the room._

_The walls seemed to be tilting as he walked out of the study, his fists clenched at his sides. He felt so— Erik couldn't think straight, not at all._

Erik! Come back, please, Erik!

_Erik angrily constructed his mental shields, and, even though the telepath could easily get through, Erik did not hear another single thought from Charles for the rest of the night, even though he was awake the entire time._

Erik ran hard. Harder than he ever does. He pressed his weary feet to the ground at every point of contact with his heavy thoughts weighing them down.

Eventually, Erik collapsed, and it was on the hard stone of the balcony. 

He distantly knew that he was exhausted in that way that bleeds through your bones, especially since he was rapidly growing accustomed to the luxury of resting in the safety of the house, with powerful mutants surrounding him, with Charles—

Erik forced himself to sit up. He looked toward the satellite. 

Closing his eyes, he rose a heavy arm outwards. Rage and serenity. 

Erik never had to concentrate to summon rage to power him. But serenity.

His mother. Running. Creating with his power. 

Charles.

Being saved from a deep blue that was almost as stifling as his endless fury. Being offered a home, a— a family. Being trusted. Being believed in. Being told that he was not simply his darkest, broken parts, but the cracks where the light bled through, as well. Being forgiven. Being...

Loving someone.

Erik settled there. When he opened his eyes, even through his enervation, the satellite was pointed directly at him.

_"You realize that you make that series of moves every few games, and you always fail when you do?"_

_Erik rolled his eyes, which made Charles laugh brightly, as he always did, in reaction._

_"Are you doubting me, Charles?" he asked idly._

_Charles just beamed at him, moving a piece himself. "Oh, never, my friend. I'm sure your redundancy has a meritorious premise."_

_Erik huffed. "That doesn't sound at all like placating."_

_Charles just pursed his lips in that annoyingly charming grin of his. They played the rest of the game in silence — that is, until Erik won._

_He couldn't help it — Erik leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers and sending Charles a smug look. "Any more commentary, Charles?"_

_"Well, I think I'm in love with you."_

_It had obviously left his lips without his full consent. As soon as they were thrown into the air, Charles's face lost color. The slight chance that it was a joke evaporated at the horrified countenance that took over him. Erik wasn't quite sure what his own expression was, but Charles's only grew more pinched in the ensuing stillness._

_Finally, Erik was able to look down. And all he could think was,_ no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

_When he looked back up, Charles's blue eyes were wet._

Today, Erik didn't go to his rooms after his run. Today, he went to the kitchen.

He paused in front of the door. Charles's wheelchair was there, but it wasn't moving. The stove wasn't on. His reading glasses weren't perched on his face. His usual warm cup of tea was cooling. All was still.

There was no curious probe of another consciousness, wordlessly querying his early appearance.

Erik clenched his fists once before pushing the door open.

Charles's head instantly flung up, obviously surprised to see him in a way that Erik hadn't seen since they were first acquainted and Erik was strict on the anti-telepathy rule. He was stiff in his chair, his blue cardigan and brown hair both appearing somehow duller in color than they usually did. His fingers were tightly wrapped around one another as he looked up at Erik, eyes blown open with heavy, dark spots smeared underneath them. 

And still, Erik was startled to realize just how stunning Charles was.

Which was both serendipitous and a curse, because Charles's lips were twisting from surprised to distressed, and Erik couldn't seem to find any words. 

"Erik," Charles said, and it was most likely supposed to sound normal, but instead it came out as a dejected whisper.

Erik couldn't speak. Charles continued to sit there, knuckles white.

Frustrated with himself, Erik inhaled and walked towards Charles, who shrunk back in his chair, eyes strained. 

Erik placed his hands on the chair's armrests, leaning on them heavily, and then their faces were only half a foot away from one another. Charles had evidently decided that Erik wasn't planning to hit him, so he straightened, but his whole body was still taut lines.

Erik wished he had made a plan. At least one that extended beyond, _get him back_.

Charles's eyes suddenly grew wide before shading miserable, and Erik realized that the close proximity and how loudly he was thinking definitely clued Charles's into some of his thoughts.

Bad ones, apparently. "Erik," Charles pleaded, " _please_. Don't think so ill of me, my friend. I... I apologize for invading your privacy, but you don't have to convince me to— to allow you to stay here. This home is yours just as much as it is mine." His face morphed into something aberrant. "Even if I have made you uncomfortable in it."

Erik brought one hand up to roughly scrub at his face; Charles continued, "I'm so sorry, truly. I had no right to — to discommode you like that. My... emotions should not have been any concern of yours, and — "

"Charles," Erik interrupted. His voice sounded alien in its hoarseness. It was the first time he spoke since the game last night.

Charles's breathing hitched. He didn't reply, just halted his actions until Erik spoke again.

"Charles," he repeated. It still didn't come out right, so he instead looked straight into Charles's eyes and steadied his gaze. Charles's eyes were round and producing preemptive responses. 

From there, Erik was inspired.

He exhaled softly, and settled his gaze on the neckline of Charles's grey shirt. “It's... It's hard to imagine any world where Charles Xavier would want to be with Erik Lehnsherr,” he said, his tone still rough, but he knew where he was going now, knew _Charles_ so well that he loved him. “That's what I couldn't accept. It had nothing to do with who you are. And I wanted for that moment to stop because it made me feel helpless because I was — confused. And you offering to wipe my memory infuriated me because that meant that I was resigned to what you had already decided of me, and I didn't want to— want to sweep this under the rug.” He shut his eyes. “I blocked you out because I was scared of — _this_ , and angry with you. But now I just...”

It was silent; Erik's breath was locked in his lungs, clawing to escape, and Charles wasn't breathing, either.

Finally, Erik speaks, eyes tied shut, “You're my serenity, Charles.” He opens them.

Charles stared at him, eyes wide and glittering again, but this time it's all hopeful longing with his bottom lip bitten hard between his white teeth. He seems to be struggling to find words, which is _definitely_ a first, and it makes Erik's lips twitch instinctively. Charles caught the action, eyes lingering on his lips, before his cheeks hued pink and he shot his gaze back up.

At last, Charles muttered, “How have you managed to vanquish all of my confusion about you saying that... That we could...”

Erik's lips won this time, a grin stretching. “Because I know you. I know everything.”

Charles looked up. Bright blue eyes, dark red lips, and flushed pink cheeks clouded Erik's better judgment. 

Erik carefully placed his lips onto Charles's, a brief touch that hinted hesitancy at the moment but assuredness in the action. Charles was deadly still, eyes still boring into Erik's when Erik pulled back just an inch — but as soon as air passed between them, arms were wrapped around Erik's neck pulling him back down, into Charles's air, and then their lips crashed together. Erik tightened his hold on the armrests until Charles let out a breathy sigh and was forced to hold Charles's head and tilt it just so, allowing his tongue to slide in effortlessly. Charles melted in his grasp.

It was a long moment until Charles pushed on Erik's chest for air. Breaking apart, panting, Erik allowed his eyes to wander Charles's face. From the furrow of his brow to the laxness in his lips to the desperate want in his eyes. Erik tangled his fingers in Charles's hair, tracing his thumb across Charles's cheekbone. Charles leaned into the touch, shutting his eyes, breath still coming out in ecstatic bursts.

“You're — ” Charles visibly collected his breath. “You're _so much_ , Erik. So much.”

“Is that good?” Erik couldn't help but ask quietly.

Charles's eyes flew open. “It's the most that I could ever ask for.”

Erik leaned in more, resting his forehead against Charles's. “I'm sorry for shutting you out. That will never happen again.”

Charles shook his head. “You deserve your privacy, you've allowed me to invade it so often, I shouldn't be abusing that privilege — ”

“I'm in love with you, Charles,” said Erik, exasperated. “You being in my mind all the time, being _with_ me all the time, is the most that _I_ could ever ask — ”

Erik was shut up with a heated kiss, and then suddenly Charles's mind was entwined with his — their bliss was blinding. Charles's wheelchair started vibrating in Erik's joy.

Erik couldn't get enough of it, of Charles, of them together, and it could've been seconds or hours until Charles maneuvered himself free but it still would have been too soon. 

Erik pulled Charles closer. “No. Forget breakfast. Let's go to your room.”

Charles flushed brilliantly, pulling away and wheeling himself backward. “Erik."

Erik gave him a look, and Charles rolled forward. "Charles."

"Erik," Charles said again, sterner but with happiness dancing in his eyes. "The children." Then his nose turned up. "Also, you stink."

Erik huffed. "Fine. But after breakfast, tell Hank to walk the kids through their math lessons — I'll be in your room." Erik had to consciously quell down the arousal that flared at that.

"You're terribly cocky in my obedience for a man who has a hard-on just talking about going to my room," Charles said dryly, but Erik felt his chest warm at the thought that Charles was back in his mind. To that, Charles responded with a blinding smile — not that he ever lost it.

"No, I'm appropriately cocky in your obedience given that I've seen inside your mind and I know that you're more than comfortable following my command," Erik corrected, smirking. Charles blushed terribly at that, and Erik laughed, loud and uncontrollable.

"I love you," Charles said suddenly, and it was clearly meant to be said aloud this time, but it still held a note of worry.

Rather than saying it back, Erik just grinned and started walking away. Giving a soft probe at the glowing gold in the back of his mind, he concentrated on one thought and emotion.

_I love you, too._

Erik was halfway down the hall when he received the responding burst of contentment and glee.

It was one of the louder mornings in the house when Erik realized that his usual routine has been corrupted.

Erik wakes up in a bed that's warm, and he rolls to his side to kiss the sleeping body next to him. He then dresses quickly and quietly and chases his sleep off with a run around the house. But rather than showering his exercise away, he goes to the kitchen.

 _Morning,_ he greets as he always does when he first enters the house. A rush of warmth floods his mind.

 _Good morning, darling!_ is the reply. Erik grins.

This particular morning, he wrestles through the little ones, Raven, and Sean attacking Logan in the hallway. Jean takes one quick moment to hug his legs before continuing her assault. Alex is guffawing next to Moira, and Hank's complaining about the older ones messing up their new uniforms. When he finally gets to the kitchen, Charles is setting up breakfast. There's a brilliant smile waiting for him.

"We live in a madhouse," Erik tells him, dropping a kiss on his forehead. 

"Yes," Charles replies, leaning his head into Erik's stomach. He's still smiling. "Yes, we do. How was your run?”

“It was good,” Erik says, then leans back to look into bright eyes. “But not as good as what I have here.”

Charles grins. “Sap. Skip your shower, breakfast is already ready. Go get everyone.”

“Bossy,” Erik mutters, glaring when he's slapped on the bottom. He drops another kiss before walking away. “Logan's going to complain about my smell.”

“Yes, well, there are always forks to threaten him with,” Charles replies distractedly as he pours cups of juice and coffee. 

When Erik goes out in the hall, they all shut up after one of his barks of _'quiet_ ', and look properly chastised after one ' _you all sound like a horde_ _of circus animals_ ', and then they're all shuffling into the kitchen, brightening up when they see Charles's sunny smile and a surplus of eggs.

Erik sits down, and a plate of toast is given to him. Charles rolls up next to him. He gets a kiss on the cheek.

 _Serenity_.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm working on some longer charles/erik fics right now, so if you're interested, feel free to subscribe :) comments, kudos, and bookmarks are always appreciated!!


End file.
